


Something Clinical, Something Kind

by RoeDusk



Category: Naruto
Genre: Acts of Kindness, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Other, Unspoken Societal Pressures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9491165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoeDusk/pseuds/RoeDusk
Summary: Years before Madara found the perfect puppet Hanzo the Salamander dreamed of creating peace in the shinobi world.  A chance encounter with a young samurai, still an unknown, and Hanzo's decision to save his life could have changed the world, if forces hadn't conspired to prevent it.Hanzo does more than just give Mifune a chance of survival, nursing him back to health, and gaining a lifelong friend in the process.(Attempted fluffy oneshot, plus continuation that might become longer if it won't leave me alone. )





	1. Casual Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm watching Shippuden for the first time because I'm stuck on my fanfics and not getting enough detail in wiki summaries. 
> 
> Why are their no Hanzo & Mifune fics? There aren't even any pairing fics, and they're in a much better position to actually become friends than Hashirama and Madara were...

Hanzo only made it to the edge of the bridge before stopping, senses still straining to trace the samurai’s flickering chakra. He’d made his point, said his piece, and even if the other had impressed him enough to offer a test he should be finished, ready to head back.

But it is always raining in Ame. The villagers despise war, but know more than most how important a strong weapon is. He’s no jinchuuriki but a human sacrifice nonetheless, a weapon that could injure even those he’s meant to protect, so they keep him at arm’s length.

He’s envious, of the lengths this samurai would go to protect his comrades. Comrades who left him to die, even. And it’s sunny here. He’s finished the mission early, no one will come looking for him - not until he’s weeks late. Perhaps it’s a better test to help the other survive, and watch if his conviction wanes over the years. So he turns back, lifting the unconscious man with just a hint of chakra, then turning for the mission safehouse.

It’s only when he gets there that he realizes he never got the samurai’s name, and the relief that hits him when he realizes he might still get a chance to learn it is enough to convince him he’s made the right choice.

 

* * *

 

Hanzo cleaned and bandaged the samurai’s wound as best he could, stripped him of his armor and weapons, and coaxed the last of the antidote into his system. After that the ninja found himself at a loss for what to do. A trained killer he may be, and careful to learn the effects of his poison on others, but he’d never been trained as a healer. The village saw no need for him to learn field medicine when his proximity could kill a patient by accident, so all he had was scraps he’d overheard, or learned from watching others treat their comrades or himself.

In the end he settled for checking the samurai’s pulse and breath, reassured both were continuing, and gathering supplies to make another dose of the antidote. He was being extra careful with his distance and the mask, but it was better safe than sorry. Hanzo had just begun grinding the ingredients into powder when the samurai woke up.

Mifune woke with a sigh, a wince for the pain in his head now that the numbness of the poison had worn off, then opened his eyes in confusion at finding himself on his back. Dark eyes took in the room in one sweep before landing unerringly on the ninja across the room. One slow blink, to make sure his vision was clear, then the corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile.

Hanzo frowned at that reaction, watching as the samurai tested his limbs before settling back to watch him in return.

“Is this another part of your test?” the injured man asked finally, voice rasping painfully. Hanzo put the mortar aside to locate his water skin, and moved close enough to hand it over. Somehow it set him more on edge that the samurai accepted the offer without hesitation.

“It would be difficult to see how far your conviction will carry you if you were dead,” he informed the other dryly, rolling his eyes when the samurai took a deep swallow. “Are you not worried about poisoning yourself at all?”

“I trust your conviction,” the injured man replied easily, offering the water skin back. “And if you had wished to poison me you would just have let me die.” He smiled wryly at Hanzo’s started expression. “I wish to thank you for the chance to hone my conviction further. People are like swords, and I will not break.”

The ninja scoffed, looking away to hide the smile threatening to show on his face. “Your name. You never told it to me.”

“Mifune,” his guest replied tilting his head respectfully. “Of the Land of Iron. I’ll entrust myself to your care.”

And there wasn’t really anything to say to that, so Hanzo just nodded and went back to the medicine, Mifune watching him quietly the whole while.

(He was a ninja, trained to resist multiple forms of interrogation. A single curious watcher shouldn’t bug him as much as it did. In the end he’s relieved when Mifune falls asleep again.)

 

* * *

 

It started with casual touches. An accidental brush of fingers when handing the samurai a bowl, or the hint of pressure left over in the tips of his fingers when he finished changing the bandages over the wound. It was a clinical necessity, so Hanzo didn’t think anything of it. Perhaps he should have, such closeness, even clinical, was unusual in his life. Why touch what they feared to even breath close to?

Yet he forgot to consider it and as such gave some sort of signal to the injured man he was unaware of. Because Mifune took his closeness as permission to _touch back_ , and that Hanzo was unprepared for. A tentative brush against his shoulder the first time, asking for attention. He hesitated a moment too long, but didn’t react badly. So the samurai moved on to occasionally resting a palm on his shoulder in understanding, instead of simply saying it.

And Hanzo wasn’t sure how he felt about it. The hand was warmer than he expected every time, skin touching skin when no one ever dared before. He wondered idly if he could steal a little of that warmth for when he was cold without a shirt, then shook the thought away as silly. You couldn’t steal warmth to store for later. Besides, fire chakra would warm him up just as well. It didn’t feel the same when he tried, though. He knew heat should just feel like heat no matter the source, but the warmth of a touch had weight to it. Life.

He missed it when it was gone, where normal cold he could ignore. Where he should be used to ignoring it from the brushes in combat. But somehow deliberate closeness was different, and he had no basis for dealing with it.

When Mifune switched to casual companionship, sitting next to him while eating and occasionally knocking their legs or arms against one another, Hanzo couldn’t figure out what to do anymore. He wondered now how it would feel to lean against the other instead of touch by accident side-by-side. But it was not the shinobi way to crave physical contact, it was a perverse desire he refused to give in to, especially given all the misunderstandings that could arise.

He didn’t realize he’d started shaking whenever the possibility of contact occurred to him.

“Are you alright, Hanzo?” Mifune asked quietly. “It’s just, whenever I touch you you start shaking. If you aren’t comfortable tell me, I can stop…”

“No, I’m not uncomfortable,” the ninja interrupted, closing his eyes, embarrassed at missing such an obvious reaction. “I… don’t know what to do, with touch. My village has always kept at least an arm’s length away, for fear of the poison.”

“Which you do not distribute through your skin, they couldn’t become poisoned that way,” the samurai finished with a frown. A moment later he was sitting closer, not quite touching, and holding an arm out just above Hanzo’s shoulders. “If you become uncomfortable, tell me and I will release you.”

There was no clearer warning before he lowered his arm across the ninja’s shoulders. Hanzo froze, stock still for a second but for the tremors. There was a band of warmth sliding into his bones and down his back and arms. It was heavy and solid in a way that augmented the radiated heat, instead of taking attention away from it, and… Hanzo wanted to wrap that warmth around the rest of him, even if he couldn't picture how such contact would work. But he forced himself to close his eyes and go slow, adjust to the closeness being offered rather than demanding more.

Now that he was looking for it Hanzo could sense the faint tremors as he tensed, uncertain. He forced himself to relax, willed the shaking to stop with a lifetime’s learned control. Mifune wasn’t fooled, and there was a tense uncertainty in his arm, one that lingered until Hanzo began considering pulling away. To spare him the awkward results of his kindness.

Then the samurai huffed and pulled his arm away on his own, shifting closer instead so their legs were touching from ankle to hip. He leaned his side into Hanzo’s arm as well, resting the hand he’d moved on the ninja’s shoulder with an apologetic shrug.

“That angle would have put my arm to sleep,” he offered in explanation. “And grabbing hold to relieve the tension seemed impolite.”

“Hmm,” Hanzo agreed thoughtfully. He would not have been able to ignore the risks of a tighter hold, the implied grapple in such a motion. It wasn’t something worth considering long, however, as Mifune hadn’t done so. Instead he wavered for a long moment, hesitating as he wondered if this was too much contact. It was warm and undemanding, nothing perverted about it, but he still felt perverse allowing anyone so close.

He wasn’t doing anything wrong, he decided after a long moment. If Mifune tried anything he could still kill the man from this position, and he was armed with his poison if this was a play for a weapon. So he settled, the lie of his relaxing muscles finally closer to a truth, and leaned back into the curve of the samurai’s arm.

Mifune didn’t comment, didn’t tighten his grip, only adjusting to the slight shift in weight before settling again. Hanzo closed his eyes, trying to memorize the feel of warmth in the hold - the strange difference a living touch made out of combat, and put off worrying about the consequences.

They sat like that for a long time.

 

* * *

 

By week’s end Mifune was well enough to travel. Hanzo only felt slightly guilty at the way he shoved the other’s weapon and armor at him and told him to be on his way. He had no plans to return to this specific safe house so he didn’t bother hiding its location from the samurai, but he needed him to be on his way before leaving himself. No point in tempting fate by leaving a stranger in a classified location unattended.

He ignored the persistent ache at the edge of his thoughts, that this was the last time he’d see this strange man, that Mifune would be changed when they saw each other again, or that he would act like this week never happened. What was the proper way to say goodbye to a stranger who had treated you more familiarly than even family members had in years? Who had offered comfort without any other intent, simply in case it was needed?

Hanzo was a shinobi, he didn’t need kindness to keep him going. The memory of another out there who sought the same goal, who had talked long into the night about theories of peace, and would fight to that end even across the world, would be enough. He would make it enough.

(And it didn’t soothe him in the slightest that Mifune looked back before the road could swallow him up, or that he’d wished Hanzo the strength to always follow his convictions before departing.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of this story Mifune is about Hanzo's age, not half the age of the Sannin. He might be a little younger but he's still in the same 10 years or so. 
> 
> Hanzo's reactions to touch are based of a conversation I've had with a therapist (minus the being a trained killer bit). I don't get physical affection all that often, and when I do I have to bug my family into giving it. If someone else initiates it I'm surprised and start shaking, even if I don't realize it. Which in turn causes people to think I don't like it and stop doing it. Is not fun. But it also means I spend a lot of time wondering if that's what being touch-starved feels like, or how I should go about asking people for a hug or being allowed to lean on them or something, because I'm sick of people assuming I'm flirting with them when I'm not, and not willing to give them a physical thing to point at rather than just words. 
> 
> So... after seeing that Hanzo didn't wear a shirt in the flashback, and him saying that his village feared him for the poison they put in him potentially killing people he's close to I decided to write this.  
> If you want to see it sexually I'm not telling you not to, but I'm planning to leave it as 100% platonic.
> 
> (Rereading this this morning, I want to assure people that this was my thinking mental voice, not my crying mental voice? I'm interested/confused/sometimes-annoyed by this, not really worried about it yet.)


	2. Catching Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a oneshot...

Years passed. The Second Great Shinobi war tore his country apart, killing so many for others’ wars. Hanzo cemented his legend and met three children who failed to die before him. They gave him renewed hope for the future, the way they stood by each other in the face of death, so he let them go. But there was always another battle. The war never really ended in Ame, where the larger nations sent their ninja to skirmish against each other in spite of the fact that it should be peacetime.

So he set aside his dreams of uniting the shinobi nations, focusing instead on securing his own homeland. He took control of Amegakure when their leader died, determined to drive all foreign shinobi from the country. They feared him still, but despised war more. His village would become a tool for more than killing, he would use them to protect the land, or die trying.

Though, dying seemed more likely by the day.

Hanzo struggled to breath as he returned from another border patrol. He’d only needed to show up at the edge of their sensor’s range and the infiltration team had run for the safety of their border. But he’d needed to get away from the Village, from those who would just as happily kill him at the first sign of weakness as help him reach his dream, so he pursued, all the way to the border. Waited for a moment in dramatic silhouette for them to wonder if he'd follow them across before disappearing back into the rain.

But the fever still burned under his skin, making him tempted to risk the endless rain and just lose a layer or two. But he couldn’t risk his illness getting worse, shouldn’t even be heading out like he was to end up soaked and struggling to breath through the mask. He needed to find somewhere to recover in private, where his followers couldn’t find him.

It always rained in Ame, making the land dull and grey even where plants managed to grow. So Hanzo didn’t notice his vision greying out until it was too late. He crashed to the ground, half submerged in a puddle, and wondered weakly if this is how he would die. And ignoble death perhaps, but it matched his mood of late. Hopeless.

There was a startled cry and hands pulling his face out of the water, but he couldn’t muster the strength to wonder why. The lack of oxygen finally got to him, and the world went black.

 

The sound of his own breathing woke him, weak and breathy but there. But it was the lack of familiar weight on his face that shocked Hanzo into awareness. He was inside, dry, and tucked under a pile of blankets he could barely see over. In the corner of his eye he thought he could see an open window, to air the poison out in spite of the rain, and behind the sound of the rain hitting the roof he could hear the soft grinding of a mortar and pestle. He turned towards the sound, only to wince as the motion triggered a cough that lead into a coughing fit.

A shadow fell over him and hands lifted him so he could curl into the cough. When he could breath again a cup slid into view, and he drank the tea inside without considering the implications. Only when his mind woke up another fraction did he remember to start and twist away from his rescuer. Instead of letting him shield them from the poison he just exhaled the stranger grabbed him by his shoulders and turned him around.

Mifune was hardly a stranger, and Hanzo was startled to recognise him even with the new lines of wear across his face and the bandage on his head. A part of him wondered if it was to hide the scar from their battle and winced internally, but the rest was still struggling to find a reason Mifune could be in Ame. All his experience was insisting this had to be a genjutsu, but Hanzo was horrified to realize he was considering pretending it was true. Disgusted with himself he dragged his hands out from under the covers and into a seal, threw a pulse of chakra at the other man.

Mifune just raised an eyebrow at him.

“I suppose it has been far too long since we last saw each other,” he agreed after a moment, “But Hanzo, you should not be running around in this weather while already ill. How can you expect to keep your conviction sharp if your body is failing?”

The ninja looked away and Mifune frowned.

“You have not given up on peace?”

“There is no way to create peace in this world,” Hanzo bit out tiredly. “I cannot even defend my people against this endless war, how am I to protect all nations?” He closed his eyes and looked away.

“But you still intend to try,” the samurai insisted, eyes narrowing at Hanzo’s tired sigh.

“They fear me, Mifune, even my countrymen. That’s why they hesitate to attack us now, nothing else. And lasting peace cannot be built on fear.”

“When you face what you fear, you grow stronger, but you also learn to respect it,” the samurai told him. It took Hanzo a moment to realise the other was talking about him, and his eyes shot open in shock. Mifune nodded at him. “Perhaps you cannot bring about peace alone, but there must be those willing to stand beside you.”

“But how would I trust them?” Hanzo asked, eyes narrowing. “The Shinobi world is built on lies and deceit. I have not protected Ame this long by trusting those who preach peace and cooperation while meaning war. And even if I did, who would be foolish enough to trust me?”

“I would,” Mifune replied. “I came to this land in search of you, to repay the favor I owe you and pledge my assistance to your cause of peace.”

“Samurai have always been neutral,” the ninja pointed out, eyes narrowing. “I cannot believe that has changed. Are you intending to betray your convictions and become a shinobi instead?”

“I have no such intention,” the samurai stated, sitting straighter. “While it is true the shinobi have always been neutral, we are pledged to work towards peace. I may not be able to ally with any shinobi nation, but you are only one man, Hanzo, and your dream of peace is a noble one. So I will promise to work towards peace where ever I can, even if it is on the other side of the continent. If you will do the same we may one day see our dream realized.” He smiled at the incredulous look that earned him. “A samurai may have a shinobi friend who calls on him in time of need. And that same shinobi may find he has the means to defend that samurai’s life. Is that not the beginning of peace?”

Hanzo frowned at Mifune, eyes narrowing further at the faith in his words. “And you truly believe you can get away with such a loophole? Who are you, Mifune, to offer this to me?”

“When I have finished my business here, and return to the Land of Iron, I will succeed my predecessor and become the General of the Land of Iron,” Mifune replied, meeting Hanzo’s eyes. “I have honed my conviction, become a blade that inspires my comrades to great acts, and as such this honor was bestowed upon me. But I could not accept without first repaying my debt to you, the man who showed me true conviction.” He helped Hanzo back onto the bed, tucking him back into the blankets replacing the cloth on his forehead. Then he sat back with a nod. “Fear not, my friend, I will help you find your conviction again.”

“We were never friends,” was all Hanzo could think of protesting, frowning up at the samurai’s intense face. Mifune just smiled down at him for a moment before turning to pick up the mortar again.

“Are we not?”

* * *

 

Hanzo surprised himself by falling asleep again, even knowing a potential enemy was his only line of defense. The next time he woke it was to voices, muffled slightly enough that they were likely outside.

“... I’m just glad we were nearby when he fell. And that you came out in time to stop us trying to get his mask off in the base. What a way to let you know we found your friend.”

It was a young man, an unfamiliar voice. Hanzo pushed himself up as silently as he could, keeping one ear on the area for other strangers.

“And I must thank you for letting us use your old home,” Mifune’s voice. Hanzo let himself relax slightly at that, but forced himself to his feet nonetheless. He considered going through the closets to find his sickle, but Mifune would hear him, if not the young man. So he headed for the door instead, padding on silent feet even when he felt like falling back into bed. The Ame leader took a steadying breath and leaned against the wall to listen.

“You never mentioned Hanzo was the friend you were looking for,” the youth said lightly. But there was a question and threads of accusation in the words.

Mifune chuckled at that. “Then you believe I should have wandered into a warzone, claiming to be a friend of Amegakure’s feared leader? And if it hadn’t been you young ones I bumped into, should I have said the same to any Leaf or Rock ninja I bumped into?”

A shift of cloth, as the young man sat back most likely.

“I suppose not. Still, a month ago I didn’t even know Samurai existed. Now I’ve not only met one, but one who claims to be friends with Hanzo the Salamander.” A weak laugh. “That came off as rude again, didn’t it? Sorry.”

“I assure you, claiming to have been his friend earlier would not have eased your suspicion,” Mifune retorted dryly. Then, as his guest made a vaguely chagrined noise he continued. “No offense taken, I will simply have to try harder to prove myself.”

Deciding he’d heard enough Hanzo straightened and pushed the door open, startling the redhead sitting on the front steps. Mifune blinked at him, but was much better at hiding his surprise, rising instead to turn to the older ninja. His companion seemed ready to follow his lead, scrambling to his feet as well. Hanzo ignored him.

“You could have woken me if you wished to speak inside, Mifune.”

“Better safe than sorry,” the samurai replied apologetically. “The mucus seems to be absorbing most of the poison you would usually exhale, but even with the antidote on hand it wouldn’t do to poison the local gang whose hospitality we’re making use of.”

Hanzo frowned, eyes narrowing at Mifune who offered him another half smile.

“I watched you make the antidote when you nursed me back to health, and remember how it went. Do not worry for me, I’ve built up a resistance to your toxin, and am taking the antidote just in case.”

The ninja hummed noncommittally and glanced at the redhead. “Akatsuki. I’ve heard of you.” The young man’s eyes widened comically, and he glanced at Mifune in shock.

“Not through me,” the samurai laughed. “You must be making a name for yourselves.”

“Peace through diplomacy,” Hanzo mused, bringing those startled eyes back to him. “I approve of your actions.”

“Really?!” The redhead startled, a grin threatening to split his face before he managed to get it under control. “I mean, we were inspired by your actions to try and bring peace to the land. One day, we’re going to surpass you, and on that day the war will be won with words, not fighting! The hatred will end!” Then he seemed to realize how badly that could be taken and started waving his hands too. “No wait, that’s not to say what you’re doing is wrong either!”

“That sounds like a difficult goal,” Hanzo cut him off frowning and glancing at Mifune. The samurai raised an eyebrow at him with a smile and the ninja resisted rolling his eyes. Turning back to the young man he cocked his head. “Surely it would be simpler with allies. For the benefit of the people of Ame we have the same goal.”

“I-Yes?!” The redhead blurts out. “I mean, I’d have to discuss it with the others, but why? We’re just a group of rebels trying to do the right thing, and you’re _Hanzo_. Why would you even need us?”

“You are loved in my village nearly as much as I am hated,” Hanzo replied bluntly. “I believe several of my former subordinates have even left in disgust only to join you instead. And even if you were not, there can never be too many people working towards peace.” He met Mifune’s gaze and nodded. “If enough of those who desire peace ally with one another, doesn’t our chance of changing the world increase? I cannot promise to stop defending the people I’ve sworn to protect, but I can promise to stay within the Land of Rain while you seek to unify the land without force. For that is also my dream.”

Mifune smiled and nodded back, accepting the alliance, then turned to the redhead with raised eyebrows. “I believe it is high time you introduced yourself.”

“Right.” The young man straightened, still slightly in awe but hiding it well. “My name is Yahiko, the head of Akatsuki. And… pending a background check with my comrades, we accept your offer of alliance.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow at that and glared at Mifune, who laughed.

“I’m not the one who nearly died in front of him, my friend.”

Hanzo sighed but didn’t dignify that with an answer. Instead he nodded to the younger man. “I will send you a message of invitation when I have recovered. That should give you time to do your research.”

Yahiko bowed, once to him and a shorted nod for Mifune, then darted out into the rain, remembering himself just long enough to turn and wave goodbye before he disappeared.

“A good first step, don’t you think?” Mifune asked, stepping closer. Hanzo scoffed.

“Their idealism will get them into trouble, but… yes. If they do not lose their conviction Akatsuki could make great allies. And it seems I have you to thank for arranging things.”

“All by chance,” Mifune assured him. “I was looking for a way to find you, and they discovered me, offering their help easily once I proved I was not here to fight. After that… well, they reminded me of you. I could not help but wish for you to meet.”

“You have my thanks,” the ninja replied softly, watching the rain for a moment longer. Then, “We will have to protect them, won’t we?”

“Indeed,” Mifune agreed, unusually somber. “More than you know.” But he shook his head at Hanzo’s questioning look, so the ninja let it go - for the moment. “But for that you’ll need to recover,” the samurai decided, taking the last step into Hanzo’s personal space and throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Come now, back inside. The last thing I need is for you go get even sicker sitting out here in the cold.”

“There are enough blankets on that bed to smother a man,” Hanzo muttered, but let himself be lead inside.

“Ah yes, one blanket,” Mifune smiled, “A truly terrible number.”

Hanzo blinked at him, itching to point out that there were clearly 5 blankets on the bed, and several more folded around the room. But… it really did only take one blanket to smother someone, if you did it right. That Mifune knew that startled and worried him, while managing to be reassuring at the same time.

He’d lock the feeling away for later, he decided, and remain silent now. Mifune didn’t need more than an eye-roll to keep him going after all.

… Didn’t deserve. He meant deserve.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After writing the first chapter I realized Mifune showing up in Ame looking for Hanzo might be enough to derail Danzo's plot to turn him against Akatsuki. I tried writing down my ideas and ended up with another chapter instead. 
> 
> Not a terrible thing, I guess.
> 
> I'm not planning on continuing this, but a corner of my mind is already plotting the next scene without outside input, so... we'll see. 
> 
> (And thoughts I found interesting for anyone who might be interested in writing this as a pairing. Mifune is the only person in the world with a resistance to the poison Hanzo breaths. Even other people who have fought him and survived aren't. Anyone else who tried to kiss him without the mask on would get poisoned. paralyzed, and die within 48 hours. Outch.)


End file.
